


here for you but you don't notice

by Darth_Videtur



Series: Master and Apprentice [12]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Darth Plagueis - James Luceno, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rise of Empire Era - All Media Types
Genre: Coruscant, Daydreams, Exploring, F/M, Gen, Lovelorn Sate, M/M, Manipulative Sheev Palpatine, Multi, Playboy Doriana can't resist driving him up the wall, Sate knows way too much, Senate Shenanigans, Senator Sheev Palpatine, Sith Shenanigans, Teasing, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 07:33:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8569717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darth_Videtur/pseuds/Darth_Videtur
Summary: In which one scrappy assassin by name of Sate Pestage comes to fall hopelessly in love with the wrong man. A tale of woe and unrequited love, and endless teasing by Kinman Doriana.





	1. meeting of the minds

**Author's Note:**

> “Plagueis had mentioned that Pestage had been born in Daplona on Ciutric IV—an industrialized ecumenopolis outside of which Darths Bane and Zannah had once lived secret lives. Plagueis hadn’t revealed how he had discovered Pestage—perhaps Damask Holdings had had dealings with Pestage’s influential and extensive family.” - Darth Plagueis, by James Luceno

Sate Pestage wondered how long he would have to stay on Naboo. He hoped not long. This small Mid Rim planet irritated him, to say the least. It was cold and miserable, the winter was in full swing, and Pestage hated cold. He had lived in cities most of his life, either naturally temperate like his home planet of Ciutric IV or artificially regulated like the endless layers of Coruscant. Naboo literally froze during one portion of its year.

 

How primitive, Sate sniffed. His disdain provided no warmth though, and he lifted his thin hands and blew into them in a vain attempt to return feeling to the tips of his fingers.

 

He continued to pace up and down the small plaza behind Naboo’s most famous art museum, the Parnelli. One of the city’s tributaries of the main river lined the far edge, but even the swiftly moving water now lay clogged with a thick sheen of ice over its surface, succumbing to the cold temperature. The whole city seemed to drag to a stop, even the sounds muted by the snow beginning to fall from the grey blanket of the sky. Sate’s close-set brown eyes had taken in nearly every detail of the classic plaza the moment he arrived, the habit of a man accustomed to danger.

 

As he waited, Sate reflected on the circumstances that had brought him to this blasted planet. Ever since his path had intersected with the mysterious and powerful business-Muun Hego Damask years ago, the undercover agent had never lacked for work. He was good at his job, good enough to attract Damask’s attention and compliments. Consistently, Damask turned to the young human for the toughest jobs, and consistently, Sate built his reputation stronger and stronger.  

 

After several years of establishing his role as a no-nonsense, capable, and efficient agent, Sate found himself approached by the Muun. Damask, in his calm way, suggested that an acquaintance of his on the planet Naboo was in need of a delicate solution to a political situation.

 

Sate knew what that meant. Assassination. Something he knew…very well. Sometimes his influential family disapproved of his life choices, but Sate knew he was destined for more than a wealthy life in industry. His family had dealings with Damask Holdings, but Sate wanted much more than that. He wanted what Hego Damask could provide, something that he had discovered long ago, a very well-kept secret of his ancient family.

 

Consequently, he read up on the data files of Vidar Kim, the senator of Naboo’s system and representative of the thirty-six star systems of the Chommell sector. Kim was a traditionalist, a supporter of the political party not currently in control of the monarchy, but the Naboo King Tapalo kept him in place to satisfy his political opponents.  

 

Kim’s time was up, Damask told him in not so many words, and Pestage had been instructed to provide his skills and information to a young Naboo by the name of Sheev Palpatine. Palpatine was Naboo’s Ambassador, thirty years old, several years younger than Sate and clearly of incredible importance to the old Muun. Sate was not certain of the relationship between the two of them, how they knew each other, but he had his suspicions.

 

Very strong suspicions.

 

Always blind to the Force, the mysterious energy field claimed by the Jedi Order, Sate was nevertheless quite intelligent, and when he made the connections with his family’s ancient legends and the curious power and influence of Hego Damask, Sate knew better than to underestimate the unlikely pair.

 

Always two there were, his father had told him once, telling the myth with an amused laugh. His father had not believed. Sate… Sate did, somehow, though he never dared to voice his opinion on the matter.

 

That quiet, steady belief paid off in the form of endless credits and the trust of an extremely powerful Muun. Sate could only hope he would achieve the same level of trust with the younger one.

 

The younger one. Sate swallowed in the cold, dry air. He had watched over a dozen holographic recordings of the successful Ambassador. Sate, never one to eye the women like his companions, instead found himself infatuated by the graceful and slim Naboo that he saw in the video footage. Sheev Palpatine moved like an apex predator, his narrow shoulders unaffected by the burden of his office, his pale blue eyes bright with promise and confidence. Sate watched every recording he could find until he felt confident that he would be able to read Palpatine’s public body language.

 

Sometimes Sate’s life depended on details like that. He wondered what his informal body language was like, but this was only a job.

 

Sate also could not find any record of a wife, fiancé, or girlfriend in the orphaned Ambassador’s history, although evidently the young man left more than an occasional female wiping away wishful tears on the different planets he visited. Even while watching the holorecordings, Sate felt his heart rate increase as he admired the bold red hair, the pale smooth skin, and friendly narrow face. A royal, from a noble House. Most of the nobility Pestage met, he ended up killing.

 

He didn’t want to kill this one. He wanted to touch him.

 

He wondered what the Ambassador would be like in person, in flesh-and-blood, and shoved the thought with expert practice to the back of his mind. It did not matter.

 

He was here for a job. That was all.

 

Sate sighed, and watched in dismay as his breath visibly rose into the air. This was ridiculous. Why would a planet allow such cold temperatures to persist?

 

He pushed a frozen strand of his black hair from his forehead and glanced around. Ambassador Palpatine promised to meet him here.

 

And… speak of the man, here he came, so much more _alive_ than in the recordings, walking quietly across the closest street, long arms swinging easily by his side, dressed to the neck in the many layers of traditional Naboo robes and knee high black boots. His hands were encased in soft shaak leather gloves, and Sate resisted the urge to reach out for a handshake, to touch those slender fingers and feel the warmth of another human. Not all planets followed that tradition, and Naboo was on the rim of civilization, anyway.

 

So he settled for a cautious nod when Palpatine slowed to a stop in front of him and tried for dry humor instead. **“The Naboo have never heard of climate control?”

 

Palpatine tilted his head just the slightest as he studied the newcomer. His face was narrow, his nose prominent, hooded blue eyes on the edge of watery and soft. He looked… delicate. Small, almost fragile and gentle. He didn’t _look_ dangerous, but then again, neither did Sate.

 

Was it just Sate’s imagination, or did those captivating eyes almost seem to be laughing at him?

 

“Radical change has always come slowly to this world,” the younger man finally said, and Sate’s heart thumped. Such a rich voice, deep and calm, still somewhat thick with the stilted accent of Naboo but twisted with a variety of lesser cultures. He was an Ambassador, all right. Nothing like the average citizen of this backwater planet, Sate reminded himself.

 

Palpatine had been places.

 

Sate jerked his eyes away to study the columns of the ornate museum. “No doubt about that.”

 

Palpatine stared at him for a long moment, expressionless, then dug into his pocket and produced a small flimsi, which he handed to Sate. The leather of his glove brushed Sate’s frozen skin. It hurt.

 

“His itinerary for Coruscant.”

 

“Perfect.” Sate kept the soft breath carefully hidden, kept his voice clear of any emotion other than bored indifference. This one was different, just like the Muun. It was true, all of it. He had long ago learned to trust his gut instincts.

 

Palpatine raised one thick red eyebrow. “I want you to wait until his business on Coruscant is concluded.”

 

“Whatever you say.” Whatever he said, Sate nodded. Yes, he could get used to saying that.

 

But Palpatine was speaking again, so he forced himself to focus. “He’s threatening to alert the Jedi Order and the Senate Investigatory Committee about various deals that were made.”

 

Political scandal was nothing new to the talented agent. Sate snorted softly. He could see now that Palpatine was more nervous than he was. This young politician was new to the world of subterfuge and undercover work. Maybe Sate could show him a thing or two once they got to know each other. “Then he deserves everything that’s coming to him. Have you made a decision about who to use from the data I supplied?”

 

“The Maladians,” Palpatine said quietly. Confidently.

 

“Can I ask why?”

 

Palpatine looked stunned that Sate would question him, but finally he deigned to reply in a lowered voice, his pale eyes casting around the small plaza. “The Mandalorian Death Watch has its own problems, and the Bando Gora its own galactic agenda.”

 

Sate grinned and nodded. “I couldn’t agree more. Besides, the Maladians are known to honor all their contracts.”

 

“How soon can you have them on Coruscant?”

 

This was the delicate part, convincing a politician – and something much more – that he didn’t need all the facts of a mission, that it was better to simply trust the experts: Sate, in this case. Sate took a slow, freezing breath and nearly coughed. Stupid planet. “Perhaps it’s best that that remains on a need-to-know basis.” 

 

“There can be no mistakes, Sate.”

 

The Ambassador’s irritation was clear.

 

Sate swallowed and sighed. Everything he had ever dreamed of, standing right in front of him and suspicious and wary. Closed off. Unreachable. Of course, it would be that way. “If there are, then I’m certain this will be our final conversation. I know fully well what Magister Damask and you are capable of, and I hope to make myself worthy of continuing to serve you. One day, perhaps, you’ll begin to think of me as family, as I’m sure Senator Kim does you.”

 

Except he wanted to be much more than family to this fascinating man.

 

Palpatine stared at him, sharp eyes penetrating into his dark soul, as though he could read the thoughts passing through Sate’s mind. “You’ve no qualms about living a double life, Sate?”

 

His training allowed him to act as though the scrutiny meant nothing to him, when in fact it meant everything to him. He shrugged with an easy roll of his shoulders. “Some of us are simply born into it.”

 

Taking a deep breath, the Ambassador nodded. “You’ll contact me here?”

 

“As soon as the work is completed. Just make sure to stay close to your comm.”

 

“You’ll also be contacting Magister Damask?”

 

Sate paused, then shook his head carefully. Damask was not something he wanted to discuss too deeply with his new acquaintance. It was too soon. “He gave me the impression that he would be unavailable for the next few weeks. But I suspect we’re safe in assuming that the results won’t escape his notice.”**

 

“I imagine not,” Palpatine grinned slightly, showing bright, slightly crooked white teeth that gave him a much more roguish appearance, contrasting with his noble clothing and rigid posture.

 

The dark smirk gave Sate a twitch in his trousers, and he looked beyond Palpatine out at the tributary. “You get used to this kind of weather, I’m guessing?”

 

Palpatine nodded. “You can get used to anything, if you have the will for it.”

 

Sate agreed. This whole conversation, he had watched Sheev Palpatine very closely. Not a single indication of interest existed, beyond the surface interest in the mission itself. No body signals, no mimicking of postures, no flirting poses in response to the small slip ups Sate had made. Either Palpatine was completely ignorant of romantic or sexual social cues, which Sate knew he wasn’t, or he was not interested in males.

 

Sheev Palpatine was a blank slate.

 

Sate Pestage had hopelessly fallen for him.

 

And he was going to have to get used to it. Sithspit.

 

He nodded back, businesslike, when Palpatine raised an eyebrow in question to the long, awkward silence. “I think I’ll stick to the big cities instead.”

 

Palpatine crossed his arms. “You come highly recommend, Sate. I’m surprised a little weather would bother you.”

 

“I haven’t had many jobs in places as cold as this.”

 

Palpatine seemed to accept his words, and motioned him to fall in beside him as he moved along the side of the plaza over the tributary. Sate did, and they found their way along an isolated footpath on the water’s edge, weaving its way past the backs of several massive stone structures and monuments. Sensible Naboo were tucked away in their homes and offices, not enduring the muffled silence of a growing winter storm. His companion appeared completely unaffected, at least on the outside.

 

“If all goes well,” Palpatine said quietly, “Neither of us will be putting up with this weather much longer.”

 

“You’ll be the new Senator before long,” Sate promised him. Few jobs were personal. This one was.

 

Palpatine looked sideways at him. His tone grew cautious. “I will need a guide on Coruscant. It is… very different from Naboo.”

 

Sate could not quite stop the sharp grin from crossing his pinched lips. “It is. But you can get used to anything, if you have the will for it.”

 

Palpatine’s eyes flashed with comradely amusement. “So it seems.”

 

The open street was quickly approaching, so Sate pulled to a stop and faced the younger man. He tried to ignore the fascinating scattering of white snowflakes melting against the soft red hair. Palpatine noticed his observant gaze and lifted the hood of his robe up over his head, thin hands suddenly stiff.

 

Sate quickly recovered. Nothing but professional curiosity. “I’ll be in contact before too long. Try to continue as normal.”

 

Palpatine tilted his head, eyes almost hidden under the hood, gleaming faintly. “I can manage that. No mistakes, Sate.”

 

Perhaps it was a warning, perhaps he meant it ominously, but as Sate walked away and blended into the spare foot traffic past the sidewalk, he felt only confidence that he would never let this man down.

 

He had found the one. His family would be proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The verbal dialogue that happens between the sets of ** stars is from the Darth Plagueis novel, this time being told from Sate Pestage’s PoV.  
> 2\. Ashangel101010 brought up the comparison of Jorah and Dany from Game of Thrones. I never really compared the two, but now it totally fits the headcanon I’ve always had for Sate Pestage. He seems unnaturally fascinated with Palpatine and fanatically loyal to him in the EU, so unrequited love seems to fit. xD And it’s such wonderful torture for poor Pestage.  
> 3\. The novel Darth Plagueis talks constantly about the bachelor trio of Sheev Palpatine, Sate Pestage, and Kinman Doriana hanging out together a lot on Coruscant when Palpatine was a new Senator, which spawned this collection. Such adventures! xD  
> 4\. Sate Pestage acts very, very strangely around Palpatine from day One of meeting him. The whole “One day, perhaps, you’ll begin to think of me as family” thing is a little strange for a first conversation, so my headcanon has gone crazy with worldbuilding Sate’s extensive family as having ancient, dark, and nearly forgotten connections to Darth Bane and Zannah on his homeplanet. (To be honest, I blame DarthRuinous for that headcanon, mostly.) Like, generations of serving the Sith Lords style. :)


	2. party gets bigger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sate meets someone new and ponders his growing Friendship Circle, and that annoying (and growing) Friendship Zone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “It’s done, in any case,” he said finally. “And without any leads for the police or the Jedi to pursue. You’re completely in the clear.”   
> Palpatine relaxed somewhat. “You’ve done well, Sate—the close call notwithstanding. There’s a place for you among my support group if you’re interested.”   
> Pestage, too, sounded relieved. “Then I suppose I’ll be seeing you on Coruscant. Senator Palpatine.”  
> \- Darth Plagueis, by James Luceno

Sate grinned at his holowatch as he sank back into the plush red leather couch. Everything was finally in place, every bit of imported new furniture carefully arranged in the modest apartment, the carpets freshly replaced with the latest self-sealing fibers. Even the wine bar was fully stocked, and Sate knew how the Naboo people enjoyed blossom wine. 

 

Thinking of the wine led him to thoughts of the new senator, Sheev Palpatine, and a thrill ran through him at the realization that Palpatine would be much closer now, not tucked away on primitive Naboo or wandering the far reaches of the galaxy at the whims of Ars Veruna. No, Sheev Palpatine belonged on the city-planet of Coruscant, the center of the known galaxy.

 

Sate believed it without a doubt. Glittering Coruscant called to the young Naboo noble with endless layers and sophistication and wine and parties with dark corners and whispers in attentive ears. When Sate watched the holograms, he could see the young politician practically itching with impatience as Ambassador, chafing under Hego Damask’s nonchalant guidance.

 

Here Palpatine could learn how to fly, Coruscant forbade nothing, and Sate wondered what the Naboo might look like dancing in the most opulent of the city-planet’s ballrooms, a lovely young thing on his arm.

 

Then he imagined Palpatine in his own arms, but elegance and refinement scorned Sate. He skulked in the backrooms of deals and dealt in subterfuge with beady eyes and cautious posture, not seduction. Sate's way lay not with beautiful coaxing words, but with rumors and daggers and poison. 

 

It made him less. It made him a loyal servant, though one that longed for a touch of the master's hand, a chance to kiss those lips that always either seemed to be twitching with some secret joke or contemplating beautiful murder in the holograms he watched over and over. 

 

There was only one problem. Palpatine wanted no such thing. Sate swallowed and studied the new furniture all the harder.

 

Minutes dragged by on the chronometer until a soft buzz jolted the agent out of his depressed musings. Sate jerked to his feet and padded across the soft carpet to the main entrance, which slid open to admit a flurry of senatorial aides and finally the senator himself, looking resplendent in sweeping robes of dark blues and greens and shiny black boots.

 

Sate looked up. Palpatine’s eyes glowed with excitement as he glanced around the apartment entrance, an Anooba at last sinking its sharp fangs into its prey. He swept further into the room, brushing aside several questions from his contingent of followers, and then he spotted Sate.

 

The swift and fleeting half smile stunned the older human, a confidential greeting between the two who knew how Palpatine had come to Coruscant, and he barely managed a returning, jaunty grin. Sate spread his arms wide with a confidence and a formal bow he did not feel. “Welcome home, Senator Palpatine.”

 

Palpatine turned in a semicircle, taking in the made-to-order décor and furnishings with a critical, though pleased, gaze. He nodded after a moment. “Thank you, Sate. You’ve done well setting this up.”

 

Sate’s heart unclenched the tiniest bit. He could breathe again. “Well, I tried to find an apartment close to the Senate Building. One that wouldn’t chew up your entire salary on the first rent due date.”

 

“King Tapalo would not be pleased about that.”

 

“Guess not.” Sate followed him in through the main living room and watched him carefully study the room from ceiling to floor, almost as though he were searching for something. Sate saw him settle for a moment on a tall, solidly built statue of burnished bronzium. Palpatine’s thin lips curled up. Sate desperately wanted to know why.

 

He held his tongue with perfect professionalism.

 

“This will do very well.”

 

Palpatine stood now by the large, sweeping vista window that overlooked a bustling portion of the government district. Unfortunately, the view might be considered one of lesser quality, but Sate imagined that to a provincial Mid Rim senator, the sight still impressed. Endless streams of traffic slinked past the transparisteel, some only a hundred meters out from the building. In the distance, the massive spire of 500 Republica lurked in grand repose.

 

Someday, Sate thought, Palpatine would reside there.

 

“Nothing but the best for the head of House Palpatine, eh?” A loud chuckle startled Sate, and he quickly turned.

 

The Senator spun smartly on his heel. “Kinman, you made it in.”  

 

The powerfully built young human male strode forward through the living room, clasping Palpatine’s forearm in a traditional greeting. “Earlier than expected. They couldn’t keep me away from this place one minute longer. Look out, Coruscant.”

 

Sate tilted his head. This Kinman was young, several years younger than Palpatine and already slightly balding. He had classic handsome features, almost an innocent look, but Sate somehow suspected this was only a front Kinman used to his advantage. He knew it when the young human winked at him and advanced.

 

“You must be Sate Pestage.” A large hand bolted out to grip his, and Sate winced. “Pleased to meet you, I’m Kinman Doriana. You can call me Kinman, all my friends do.”

 

“He has many friends,” Palpatine said quietly.

 

Kinman roared with laughter. Sate liked the sound more than he wanted to admit. “He says that like it’s a bad thing,” the Naboo aide grinned. Behind them all, the senator’s assistants continued to quietly bring in the remainder of Palpatine’s luggage and supplies.  

 

Sate didn’t know what to say to that, so he took Kinman’s hand and gave it an awkward shake. “Well met, Kinman.”

 

Palpatine waved them both over to the window, and they ended up flanking him on both sides as he looked out over the city. Sate carefully watched his own faint reflection, set his lips to a quiet contemplation. Finally the politician waved at the city scene sprawled below. “The funeral is not for several days yet, but that will be my first official act as the new Senator. In the meantime, I intend to get to know this city.”

 

Kinman waggled his eyebrows. “Believe me, I wouldn’t miss that for the worlds.”

 

Sate blushed, though he wasn’t certain why. This Kinman was… interesting, irreverent. He liked it, in the frumpy, cold corner of his heart that sometimes thought about other things than murder and breathtaking Naboo senators. He wondered if Kinman Doriana might make a suitable acquaintance and friend someday.

 

It would be nice to have friends handy on Coruscant… He glanced at Palpatine. The senator stood quietly, slender hands locked together in contemplation as he looked out. Before long, he would rule the Senate, Sate could feel it in his bones. This young man’s ambition eclipsed all others’, one only really needed to look closely at him.

 

Sate had.  As close as possible. Not nearly closely enough…

 

He squashed that thought in a rush and said the first thing that came to his frantic brain. “I can take you out sometime.”

 

Palpatine turned toward him, red eyebrows lifting over the long patrician nose.

 

“To show you both the city,” Sate finished hastily. “I know Coruscant well. Any questions you have, I’ll know the answer or find you someone who does.”

 

Kinman grinned broadly. “I don’t doubt it. You know, Sate, I think we’re gonna get along, the three of us, very well. I see this as the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

 

Palpatine still watched him, but now he nodded too. “I believe this will be a productive year.”

 

Sate took a deep breath. Productive was all well and good, but how did a beautiful friendship also feel like torture? Productive, yes, and long.

 

Kinman wandered away from the window and meandered over to the bar, crouching down and pushing through the collection of wine bottles. He whistled softly in appreciation. “Sate, did you oversee this miracle?”

 

Sate grinned as his chest puffed with the accomplishment. “I found a nice variety. Coruscant has anything to your taste.”

 

Kinman came up for air, wielding a long thin bottle of blossom wine. It waved in the air with purpose. “Really? Know where I can find myself a long-legged blond with lips like an Alderaanian flushflower? I’ve got a pretty bad thirst for one of those little beauties.”

 

Sate’s eyes widened, and he glanced at Palpatine, who shrugged with a careless tilt of his elegantly robed shoulders.

 

“He’s like that most of the time. You get used to it.”

 

“Oh,” Sate said, feeling stupid. Then he offered a small grin. “One can get used to anything, right?”

 

Palpatine stared at him, and Sate could so easily envision their first meeting on Naboo several weeks ago, in the freezing snow and that soft red hair sprinkled with frosted petals of melting glass. He watched, fascinated, as those perfect thin lips parted to reveal just a hint of white teeth. “We will see, won’t we? Kinman’s a handful.”

 

An indignant yelp sounded from somewhere in the kitchen, where Doriana had fled to find an opener for the bottle.

 

Sate dared a small chuckle. “I’ve had much worse. I think I can handle him.”

 

_Though I’d much rather handle you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. So the Darth Plagueis novel says Kinman and Sate hit it off right away, and pretty much from Day 1 Coruscant, the three of them are traveling everywhere together, with Greejatus on occasion. What a band of drama queens. xD   
> 2\. This is turning into a collection of Kinman-scandalizes-Sate, and Sate-moons-over-Palpatine, who-may-or-may-not-yet-be-fully-aware-but-probably-is. xD There have to be shopping trips and club outings along the way too. Somehow. Not everything can be angst alllll the time. Poor Sate.   
> 3\. I think Kinman is a jokester and prankster, based on his character personality in the novel. This should make for fun times between the three of them as they explore Coruscant.   
> 4\. Two Naboo and an Assassin Walk into a Bar, that’s what I should have titled this… :D


	3. club musings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sate gets a rude awakening when he finds out Kinman Doriana is more intelligent, and observant, than he thought. Palpatine sips wine and gets ogled. (So what else is new? xD)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Kinman and Sate had forged an instant bond. The youthful Doriana was made for a world like Coruscant, and he couldn’t have asked for a better guide to the galactic capital’s titillating underbelly than Pestage, who seemed to know every nook and cranny of the place.” - Darth Plagueis, by James Luceno

Sate Pestage and Kinman Doriana hit it off almost instantly, much to the apparent pleasure of the new Senator of Naboo. He indulged their late night, heated discussions and endless explorations of the city-planet’s deeper levels. Often he came with them during the nights, whenever he wasn’t buttering up the other Senators at glamorous, high-rise galas.

 

As the first two weeks flew by and Sate drank in every moment he could get at the side of his new friends, he also wondered when the Naboo politician ever slept. Palpatine seemed to contain a boundless energy inside his slender frame, and he obviously had no intention to grow fat and lazy on the spoils of his victory like most of the other Senate members.

 

The mid-levels of Coruscant were just tame enough to provide security and wild enough to entice the more daring wealthy elites to practice life on the edge of danger. Occasionally, someone went too far and people got hurt, but Sate Pestage, Kinman Doriana, and Sheev Palpatine knew how to stay out of trouble.

 

For the most part. Sometimes trouble was too fun.

 

Tonight, though, thanks to the insistence of Kinman Doriana – “I need to get drunk,” he told them solemnly – they simply found a favored club, a slightly less seedy offshoot of the Sector 1459 Umbra Club, and sat around a circular, underlit, low table with large drinks and talked of the latest politics and drama in the Senate rotunda. The curtains were half pulled around their table, providing a bit of privacy from onlookers. Palpatine was of course, the quietest of the three, preferring to listen to Sate and Doriana banter back and forth. And of course, with Doriana leading the conversation, things got bawdy fast.

 

Sate sighed loud and long and tilted his drink back for a quick sip. “How did we go from trade tariffs between Alderaan and Naboo to which clubs have the best women?”

 

“I’m just saying, it’s a fact that the lower you go on Coruscant, the looser the women get,” Doriana grinned. “It’s got its benefits, but then again, who knows what some of them are carrying.”

 

Sate offered a mock scowl. He didn’t share Doriana’s love of casual sex and seedy adventures, but he couldn’t blame the younger Naboo for a bit of revelry here and there. “What could they be carrying that you haven’t already caught at least once?”

 

Doriana roared with laughter and drained his second glass. “Fair point. I’m not as discerning as Palpatine over here.”

 

Palpatine lifted one thick eyebrow and said nothing, nursing his nearly empty drink and eyeing the clients who milled about on the sunken dance floor.  

 

“Not half as intelligent, either,” Sate rolled his eyes, extra careful not to look at the red haired Naboo when he said it, feeling his own heart rate jump. “At least he knows better than to go home with every woman who crosses his path.”

 

_But can’t see what’s right in front of him._ Well, Sate wouldn’t be the one to tell him.

 

“Which is a lot,” Doriana needled, and the Senator shifted slightly away.

 

“My accomplishments are greatly exaggerated in that field. Largely thanks to you.”

 

“Or would that be ‘no thanks’?” Sate smirked.

 

“Isn’t he modest!” Doriana patted Sate’s shoulder, since he didn’t dare do it to Palpatine. “Remember that one Eriaduan girl on Malastare, Palpatine, the one with the legs that wouldn’t quit and the flimsy-card?”

 

Palpatine looked faintly indignant. “I gave that to you. And you said you weren’t that desperate.”

 

Doriana grinned. “I might have lied about that.”

 

Sate snorted loudly. “Big surprise there.” He received a firm finger in his side, which prompted a rare grin of sharp teeth and wary friendliness. Stupid Doriana.  

 

“I’m going for another drink,” Palpatine said quietly, slipping out of his seat. “I won’t be long.”

 

Sate watched him thread his way toward the noisy bar, the agent’s sharp beady eyes shifting to take in the atmosphere of the club, looking for signs of enterprising kidnappers or assassins. Senators were a cred a dozen on Coruscant, but he wasn’t taking chances with this senator. Not his Senator. He’d done a perimeter sweep three times already, and still he watched.

 

Doriana grinned at him. “Is it frustrating?”

 

Sate glanced over, distracted by the knowing upward twitch of Doriana’s full lips. “What?”

 

The handsome young Naboo jerked his head in the direction of the bar where Palpatine now stood ordering his next drink from the human tender. “Wanting to fuck him? Knowing you never will?”

 

Sate’s eyes widened and he hissed, “Don’t say that, you kriffing idiot.”

 

Doriana held his challenging, angry gaze, laughter dancing in his dark cruel eyes. “It isn’t true?”

 

Palpatine laughed at something the female bartender told him, and Sate felt the sound go through him like an ice pick on some forlorn frozen planet. Doriana’s taunting expression softened into something approaching pity.

 

“You’ve really got it bad. I’ve always wondered why you're so fucking loyal to him. Guess I know now. You actually want to fuck him. Can’t blame you, he’s hot in that redhead way.” He laughed at his own play on words.

 

“I’m really good at killing people, you know,” Sate growled, horrified as he felt the red creeping up his neckline. He liked Doriana, he really did, but sometimes the arrogant young Naboo didn’t know when to quit. “You’d be easier than most.”

 

Doriana shrugged and whistled softly at a drink-burdened barmaid Twi’lek. She giggled and jutted one hip out for him to pat as she passed. He glanced apologetically at Sate once he leaned back. “Yeah, guess so. I’m a lover, not a fighter. But… if it’s worth anything, I’m sorry. I know, I tried to take him out for a spin once myself, but that was a disaster. And I was totally drunk, or I never would have done it. Talk about misreading a guy. And old Vidar Kim nearly had my head for it, since we were still minors by Naboo standards. And Palpatine reacted badly… guess he’s only into the ladies.”

 

And that only half-heartedly. Palpatine might have had Doriana convinced, but not Sate. He could tell that the Naboo senator’s priorities did not lie anywhere near sex and other physical pursuits of pleasure like eating and drinking. It stabbed at him with an endless gnawing disappointment, but that was life. Sate could only resign himself to that fact.

 

“He’s wild, you know.”

 

Sate turned to glare again. “Watch what you say, will you?”

 

Doriana grinned darkly. “Don’t get your choobies in a bunch. I mean it in all seriousness. A man of your years might not even be able to handle him.”

 

“I’m only a few years older.”

 

“I mean it though. There’s a darkness in him. A lot darker than you.”

 

It was true. Sate could see it too in the way those intelligent eyes burned with fierce independence, but Doriana had no business getting involved in this. He took a deep breath to avoid throwing his drink in Doriana’s face, friend or not. “It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s made his position very clear.”

 

“And that position’s not with you on top, I’m afraid,” Doriana chuckled and leaned lazily back in his seat. “Probably not even on bottom either, though I don’t think you were hoping for that.”

 

Sate thought of many things he might say to the other man, but he only managed a soft, half-hearted, “Kriff you.” Doriana couldn’t help being who he was, thinking with his balls instead of his brain.

 

Still, it hurt when the beautiful bartender leaned across her narrow counter and stole a daring, lingering kiss from the young Senator, who willingly kissed her back as he took the drink from her hand and began to weave his way through the crowd toward his companions, followed by several admiring catcalls from jealous men.

 

Doriana grinned and lowered his voice. “Bet she didn’t even ask for a tip. There’s not a woman yet made who could resist him, once he puts his mind to it. He knows just how to get them dripping wet. From princesses to barmaids.”

 

There was a note of awed pride in his voice, which disgusted the agent. Sate shoved his shoulder. “Would you mind?” He hated talk like that, like loving someone was cheap and a fling and nothing meaningful, like the deaths he carried out at the behest of his superiors. Love wasn’t death, or anyway it didn’t have to be.

 

“You’re mighty tender for an assassin,” Doriana chuckled, but mercifully fell silent before Palpatine entered within hearing range.

 

_I’ll get him back somehow,_ Sate thought, already planning the revenge prank on his loose-lipped friend.

 

The fledgling Senator sank into his seat and pushed his drink forward on the table. “Is it me, or has the Andoan wine been thinned here since we last came?”

 

“The mixer’s cutting corners, probably,” Doriana shrugged. “You know the latest Senate sanction on Ando for their constant infighting. Stupid Aqualish can’t handle their own problems without constant Republic interference.”

 

Sate nodded. Like Doriana, he shared a dim view of alien species like the Aqualish, warlike and brutish with no eye for the future. Fools like that would only bring down the reputation of the Republic even further. Palpatine remained quiet, like he usually did when his companions started talking about other species. Part of it was due to his role as benevolent Senator of Naboo; he couldn’t be seen disrespecting other cultures. Part of it, Sate suspected, was that he simply didn’t care one way or the other.

 

If beings were useful to him, Palpatine found use for them. If not, they were insects, not worth his notice.

 

Sate loved that about him, his breathtaking arrogance, the gleam in those strange pale eyes, like he knew his destiny already and was only carrying out the motions to achieve his inevitable goals.

 

And Sate would be there right along with him.

 

It still hurt.

 

Damn Kinman Doriana. He took a long drink this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Kinman is never going to let Sate hear the end of this.  
> 2\. Sate is never going to stop trying to get Kinman back for this.  
> 3\. I wonder if Palpatine is ever embarrassed by his weird friends.... xD  
> 4\. These three are so much fun to write together. Whhhhy?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sate visits the new senator's apartments and gets pulled into a discussion of art and philosophy, and panics because this really isn't his thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “His first apartment wasn’t luxurious, but it was located in the government district, with room enough for his growing art collection, which now included a costly neuranium-and-bronzium sculpture of the ancient sage Sistros—appropriate for the affluent head of House Palpatine—and containing his original hand-built lightsaber, concealed in a cylindrical cavity undetectable by security scans.” – Darth Plagueis

“The next time you put itching capsules in Kinman’s caf, ensure that you don’t do it an hour before he must present a proposal in front of the Financial Committee,” Palpatine said. “They asked him if the Naboo perform such a dance before all our meetings.”

 

Sate’s face burned. “I’m sorry, sir, it won’t happen again.”

 

The smirk that answered him punched the air from his lungs. “See that it doesn’t. But… well played.”

 

The assistant let out a soft breath when the senator brushed past him to pour a steaming cup of ch’hala tea, the fragrant smell wafting through the filtered apartment air. It made Sate want a cup of powerful caf. Anything to tame or cover the wild staccato of his traitorous heart. What a fool he had been to resort to such childish tricks and end up attracting the senator’s attention in the process. Fucking Kinman Doriana, he always brought out the worst in Sate, and yet Sate could never stay angry with his friend.

 

Palpatine paused for a moment in front of the tea cart and breathed in the scent of the tea from his cup, eyes half closed in simple relaxed pleasure. “Ah, Sate, there is nothing like the teas on this planet. Even as Ambassador I had no inkling of the variety available in the wider galaxy.”

 

“There’s a lot more to find here than tea, Palpatine.”

 

“Of course, how could I forget the greedy, squabbling politicians?” They shared a brief smile, then Palpatine waved away his joke with a slender hand and moved to the couch by the wide transparisteel window. He sank onto the plush surface and beckoned Sate closer. The assassin swallowed and approached, settling on the far side and fixing his gaze on the view before them.

 

_Don’t look at him. Just don’t, it’s easier that way._ But of course he did, glancing at the man he longed to call both Master and Lover. Unfortunately he did not have the power or skills to address him as the former, and he would never be given the opportunity to call him the latter. Such were the ways of the fickle kriffing galaxy. Sate would simply have to settle, settle for being close and never close enough. The assistant, the advisor, the assassin, maybe even a friend someday.

 

Nothing more.

 

Palpatine sipped at his tea, unaware of the older man’s gloomy appraisal. After a long pause, he sighed and somehow made even such an act seem elegant.  His eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before them. “This is it, Sate. We’ve reached Coruscant and now… now the opportunities become endless.”

 

_Opportunity…_ Sate blinked, somewhat surprised by this rather open ruminating from his superior.  His nimble mind rewound over the last several weeks; had he somehow breached one of the barriers Palpatine used to keep all others at arms’ length? And if so, how in the seven hells was he supposed to respond if Palpatine was accepting him as confidant at last?

 

His mouth spoke before his mind could stop him. “Opportunities?” he asked, blank.   _Bloody brilliant. That’s sure to impress him._

 

“And endless.”

 

Was the Senator teasing him? “Oh.”

 

Palpatine turned his head to regard his assistant. “You don’t agree?”

 

Sate played with a strand in the corner of his sleeve and realized he was fidgeting and dropped it fast to shake his head.  He remembered their last trip into the lower levels of Coruscant, Doriana leading the headlong charge into danger. They’d barely made it back in time for Palpatine’s formal dinner with the beautiful senator of Thesme. _Don’t even think about her putting her hands all over him…_  “Not at all, I do agree. I just, I feel like I should tell you to be careful. Palpatine, this isn’t Naboo anymore.”

 

His senator stared at him.

 

Sate watched a sly smile spread across thin lips.

 

“I hadn’t noticed, Sate. My thanks.”

 

“That’s, that’s not what I meant.”

 

Palpatine leaned back against the couch, warming his fingers against the steaming cup. “What you meant was appreciated, but I am in no danger here, Sate. My life could not be more lackluster now. Before you know it, you and I will have napped and drowsed through twenty years of Senate idiocy.”

 

If only he could be so lucky to serve _him_ for so long, Sate thought.  He imagined the two of them in the Senate chamber together, watching the fall of all of Palpatine’s enemies, standing at his side and returning to the glory the Pestage family once knew…

 

“-wouldn’t you say?”

 

He coughed. “Sorry?”

 

Palpatine tilted his head, soft red shoulder length hair falling over one ear. Sate could tell he was starting to get irritated. Or entertained. It was hard to know the difference sometimes. “Are you all right, Sate? Normally you aren’t this distracted.”

 

“Hard day at the offices, sir,” Sate settled for vague explanation. “Vidar Kim left a pretty big mess behind.”

 

Palpatine hummed softly. “Well, he wasn’t expecting to leave quite so soon as he did. It makes sense that matters would be in disarray.” He chuckled. “I feel as though I’ve hardly gotten the chance to visit my own offices. Do all senators attend so many parties in the first three weeks of their arrival on Coruscant, or is it Kinman’s fault somehow?”

 

Sate grinned. “That’s a tough one. He manages to work his way into invitations to more exclusive parties than most senators. Maybe the Chancellor.”

 

Palpatine snorted. “I wouldn’t argue that.”

 

They sat in companionable silence.  

 

Sate looked around the room as he waited for Palpatine to speak again. Kinman disliked silence, but Sate found it comforting because he wasn’t expected to be witty or charming or any other foolishness. Instead, in silence he could sit back and simply…. Observe. Do his job. Protect his people and get things done.

 

As he looked around, he noticed that Palpatine’s new apartment couldn’t be described as luxurious, certainly not compared to the more senior senators. Sate and Kinman and Palpatine had been walked through dozens of such apartments as senators sought to court the fresh-faced, mild-mannered Naboo in the first weeks since arrival on Coruscant. Kinman had laughed one time when he saw Sate’s glower and slung an arm around the assassin’s shoulders. _“It’s the honeymoon phase, Sate. They all want a piece of him.”_

Sate remembered wiggling free as fast as he could and readjusting the deep purple headscarves before Kinman could take an inane stab at turning his cheeks bright red. Now Kinman was still down at the office, setting up the technical details of Palpatine’s new staff and ensuring that the office could efficiently operate.

 

He had to give him that; Kinman could be very efficient and dedicated when he wasn’t being a complete…. Sate noticed Palpatine watching him, one red eyebrow raised. So he said the first thing to come to his mind: “Artwork.”

 

Palpatine tipped his tea back and sipped. And waited.

 

Sate refused to squirm under his gaze and clenched his robes with one hand. “I noticed you have a lot more artwork already. From Naboo and other places…”

 

Palpatine tilted his head, an elegant twitch. “So I do.” He passed his hand in a general wave over the sculptures along the far right wall. “Most are new acquisitions from the Senate. Cultural tokens, deities,” and here he smiled, “a gamut of unsubtle bribery.”

 

Sate looked at them all in turn and felt his interest dissolve. He was no artist, except maybe an artist of blood and subterfuge. He wondered what it might be like to engage Palpatine on his own level, to talk about the importance of the size of this deity’s  eyes, or the or the perfect note to strike on that strange-looking drum.

 

“That one’s new,” he said when his eyes landed on a tall bronzium figure lined up against the far edge of the window. It certainly didn’t look like some ostentatious Senate gift. In fact, he rather liked the severe sweeping lines, the hooded face, the mysteriousness of it all and the dark colors. It reminded him of himself, sneaking from shadow to shadow. The folded hands were a little much.

 

It also reminded him of something he had seen before, recently.

 

The senator smiled. “Ah yes, that one is no cheap offering. That is Sistros.”

 

“Sistros?” Sate shook his head. The name seemed vaguely familiar from his family’s tutor. Of course, he had never been the ideal student, preferring to work with his hands. Even the dark lessons, the lessons from days of old he struggled to maintain like his own father managed effortlessly. Yet here he sat, and his father remained only a rich man, but a very proud, rich man.  Proud of his son.

 

Palpatine nodded. Genial. Undisturbed, even appearing pleased by Sate’s unusual interest. He leaned forward in his chair. “One of the four sages of Dwartii, and naturally the first of my collection.”

 

The name _Braata_ slid against Sate’s mind. No context, just a name from his lessons. Something very important about Braata. He tried to focus, but the fact that Palpatine was sharing any of this at all, with him…. He kept his eyes pinned on the statue.

 

“Sistros was one who knew the importance of the masses,” Palpatine reflected. “He knew to tell the bigger tale would only make his truths greater to the ignorant thousands. The bigger the lie sprinkled with truth, the harder the fall. Others accused him of pandering for his own selfish ends, but he knew what power lay with the mob. He could turn public opinion against any who sought to question him. He offered his loyalty to none, used every party, every _order_ , to achieve his goals. His nature proved mercurial, his whims unpredictable.” He turned and met Sate’s eyes, and the assassin swore he could see the glitter of gold.

 

“Cutthroat,” he managed to toss off, dropping his eyes and watching those long fingers curl around the porcelain.  

 

“Without mercy. Yes.” Pale blue softened with amusement. “Of course, such methods were controversial to the Republic. Braata in particular earned her share of derision.”

 

“Braata?” Sate offered, feeling his breath slow.

 

Palpatine set the tea cup aside and chuckled. The low sound reverberated through the room. “Oh yes, Braata was the worst…. Or so they said.”

 

He stood from his seat and brushed at his robes, smoothing them. “You see, they despised her unique philosophy, that the Light Side of the Force was not the only side of the Force worth studying.”

 

Now Sate remembered: _the Dark Side._ He swallowed. Yes. Of course.

 

The other man glided silently over to the statue and looked down. “I have not acquired Braata as of yet, but this will not last long. I intend to acquire them all in short order.”

 

Sate realized where he had seen a similar sculpture. “Doesn’t Magister Damask own - ”

 

“Yanjon,” Palpatine turned on him suddenly, voice such a low hiss of pleasure that Sate nearly tumbled out of his seat. As quick as it was there, the savage hunger on those narrow features disappeared, leaving only the peaceful smile of a contemplative senator. A wave tumbling and gone. “Yes. One of the four. He is fortunate to possess such a rare piece, indeed.”

 

Sate looked for his voice and found it buried under a primeval fear that threatened to shiver up and down his spine. “Maybe he can help you find the others.”

 

“I’ve no doubt of it.”

 

Something in the lilt of that voice pulled at Sate, promised all sorts of danger and misuse, and he let out his breath slowly so as to appear unimpressed. “If you need help tracking down information, my services are available.” _Anything you could ask of me, I would do it._  

 

Palpatine’s smile widened, showing teeth in sharp relief against pale thin lips. The assassin sat a little straighter and failed to completely hide his eagerness, but now this was sounding _fun,_ damn him. The energy, infectious.

“In that case, I think we shall assuredly meet with success, Sate.”

 

He shoved the drumbeat of his heart low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Darth Plagueis easter egg: "“Facedown on the floor lay a statue of Yanjon, one of four law-giving sages of Dwartii. A piece Sidious had secretly coveted.” - Darth Plagueis  
> 2\. Sate is really in over his head, but he's in looooooove! xD   
> 3\. Palpatine really does enjoy playing with people like a nexu with a skittermouse.   
> 4\. But he might have some pity deep down for his hopeless assassin. :D


End file.
